


kind of the end of the

by againstmygreeleaf



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Ambiguity, Crossover, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Random Encounters, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/againstmygreeleaf/pseuds/againstmygreeleaf
Summary: She wanders outside of her realm one day. She walks right off the plane with her downy black wings unfurled and comes across a familiar. It stops her dead in her tracks, a shockwave rippling through her entire being.There shouldn't be any more familiars. And yet one stands before her, purple and primate like with a cute little curl in its tail.





	kind of the end of the

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a rougher version of this after my first Rebellion watch and had it posted on my dA. I just cleaned up some of the superficial stuff and put it here.

She's a demon with her own realm, a place where her beloved and her could-be friends can be happy. Even she can't cancel out despair entirely, as there are some fundamental laws of the universes that even she can't un-write. She can rework enough to know they can be happy, though. They might become enemies one day, but they can all be happy until then.

This is her realm and she can make it so.

She wanders outside of her realm one day. She walks right off the plane with her downy black wings unfurled and comes across a familiar. It stops her dead in her tracks, a shockwave rippling through her entire being. 

Because there shouldn't be any more familiars. There are no witches. She didn't alter that part of her precious one's plan. There should be no familiars.

And yet one stands before her, purple and primate like with a cute little curl in its tail.

"Chu," it tells her.

She recoils, breath catching. This isn't possible, can't be possible, there—  there is a witch. She senses it.

"Hello," greets what must be the most plastic voice she's ever heard.

She whisks around on her heel to see a woman before her (a girl at first glance, but a woman really, she can tell, albeit a _young_ woman), a woman with deep brown skin and emeralds for eyes that express all but anything. The little familiar bounds around her keen onyx heels and hops onto the woman's shoulder.

"A witch," she states virulently.

"No more witch than you are now," the woman is quick to reply, the phony sugar coating around her syllables practically mocking. "But once upon a time, perhaps."

"Then what are you now?” she asks, despite herself, eyes narrowing to feline slits.

"Searching," the woman exhales softly and losses a trace of her fraudulence as she tucks back a strand of eggplant tresses.

"Searching for what?" She should be able to make this woman disappear with a flick of her gloved fingers, but she can't and it unnerves her.

"For her," the woman answers cryptically. "It feels like it's been so long since I've seen her, which is funny, really. I've defied time for centuries, it's barely a concept that should apply to me. But someone like you should understand that, Homura."

Homura slaps her. It isn't intentional, it's only instinct, but when her palm makes contact with the woman's cheek, she does understand. This is the witch from the Ohtori barrier. Kyuubey spoke of it once, but it was outside her world and therefore outside of her concern.

She steps back and simply says, "I don't defy time the way you do."

But even as she says it, she can't hate this woman. All it took was the touch to learn they have a lot in common. Suffering through sacrifice, loving selfishly, becoming witches and then twisting out of the role to become things entirely new. 

The un-witch doesn't raise a hand to rub her cheek, simply turns her head and smiles an incredibly disturbing smile. "What's your favorite color?"

What a bizarre thing to ask. Even more bizarre, she finds herself answering.

"Pink."

"Pink like roses?"

"No. Pink like goddesses."

A pause. That creepy smile is still on her face and Homura finds herself mirroring it. "And your favorite color, Anthy?"

"Pink."

"Pink like lilies?"

"No. Pink like revolutionaries." Anthy giggles and the familiar on her shoulder lets out another soft 'chu.' She then starts walking away again, small white heels clicking on a path that isn't the demon's doing.

She needs to get back to her own creation.

Then Anthy pauses in her stride and turns her head over her shoulder, one emerald eye glittering sharply. "A word of advice from a weary traveller: Stop playing the prince."

It's such an offbeat thing to say, she should laugh at her. Or drag her back to her universe and make her disintegrate. But she doesn't find herself doing either of those things.

"I'm not," she murmurs coldly.

"Oh, really? I think you are. You're saving everyone and making everything okay just like any gallant prince on a white horse. You shouldn't. We all tried, my brother, my revolutionary, and I. It never really worked out well for any of us."

"I'm not a prince and I have no horse. I am a demon." She is, she is, she brought down the goddess herself. This all amounts to much more than some prince ever could. She can bear her corruption because it's better this way, princes can't do that.

"A demon in a cozy little coffin." She faces forward, back to Homura, and continues on her search.

They never meet again.


End file.
